Thursday, July 23, 2009

So quite naturally...

Oh my goodness, this place has cobwebs! And look at all the dust...I think a family of raccoons has moved in.

Yep. I'm back. R.D has told me he has stopped visiting because I haven't written a durn thing since July 7th. Well, honestly- I don't have much to say or I have writer's block or the home front is so all encompassing right now or...pick or choose, all of the above and then some.

I wake up, listen to the birds, find myself so thankful for their song, fix my coffee, drink that first jolt down and then I commence to make sure that everything is in it's place and just exactly so and no dust and no moisture in the basement and where did that toad come from??!! And weed and wander and hug and love the dogs, clean up and off to work and worry and wonder there-

Did the kid remember to flush the toilet?

Make their bed?

Pick their underwear up off the floor?

For gosh sakes, did they rinse out their bowls?! Ants!!!!

So, as you can see if you'd bothered to read this far- just a bit of being stuck in the all encompassing vacuum of selling a farm. I feel like I'm being judged, not on the merits of the place but on the messes!!! Yikes!

AND on top of all of that, I'm running a morgue. Yep. It's true! Here it is, the middle of summer and of all things I have big fat field mice- inside! So I went to the farm store, let's see- the choices are snap their little necks or guillotine their little heads off with the stronger traps, poison them, or glue traps. What's a girl to do?! I put poison in the basement as I suspect that is where they get in at, I glue trapped near the stove and I even put one in my silverware drawer sans the silverware. Upon awakening I forgot I had taken out the tray and replaced it with a glue trap. Imagine my horror, poor little fat mousy looking at me...I screamed, got a grocery bag, said I'm sorry a million times, gathered the little bundle up...and now what to do?! The Big Fish said, "Deah, just get a bucket of water and put them in there, they'll drown quickly." I am a brave and courageous screamy woman, but I do not drown defenseless micies, no sireee- I conveyed to B.F. "Well deah, then wat auhr you going to do then thayer sweethaut?" (That's Mainer talk....)

So quite naturally, I opened a morgue. In the big freezer out on the back porch. Well I ask you, freezing, drowning, snapping of the neck or poison...c'mon! Just as soon as the little dears get caught, I gather them up in a bag, pray over them a bit, apologize profusely and squeal a little when I close the door. I take no pleasure what so ever in their extinction...but I do allow them to live free as birds outside the house. That is my rationale for killing micies. And don't one of you tell me freezing is bad...I cannot bear it, I assure you.

Back to the real estate game-
One offer thus far, too low...then a counter...thanks but no thanks- are you freaking kidding me?! (And then there's that too emotional side to me as well right now.) And, of course- it's July. July stinks.

Keep your fingers crossed for me and ask good old Saint Joseph to get busy finding the family to love this old labor of love.

Take care-

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

burlap into velvet

I had Freud questioning my every motive in a dream recently, he asked certain questions about my limbo like state of mind these days, my constant worry and my fantasies....

So...what is on your mind today?

Selling the house.

And how do you feel about that?

Terribly nervous...breaking up is hard to do.

Very interesting way of putting it, how do you mean that?

I'm not sure, but it feels like a break up- like... you know, my house is going to find someone new, I'll be a distant memory.

Ahhhh! Of course! You have psychosomatic sexual feelings for your house as a lover...

Geez, no! This doesn't have anything to do with sex you cornball...this has everything to do with, you know- going steady and breaking up and moving on.

How do you fantasize your farm as...a secret lover-like wind that comes drifting in a window, a stern hard fence post, a timid shy sparrow or a garbage dump?

My, I may have to contemplate that a bit Mr. Freud, you're a weird one...I guess the garbage dump.

Oh my, that is a terrible sign! Women who use garbage dump as a symbol for the home/life are too sufficiently independent and make terrible partners. You will remain alone for the rest of your life I'm afraid.

Is that so?! Well, Dr. let me tell you something- I'd rather be alone than try to be something other than I am. Any man who can't see the good hearted woman standing in front of him is surely blind and I possess no special powers to give him sight.

On the other hand- this place was a dump 18 years ago, and through the years of toil and struggle and renovations... resurrection occurred. How many times has a person collected the garbage, saw something worth saving, loved it- turning burlap into velvet. And I suppose in our relationships we often see the good in that old piece of burlap and with loving intentions, try to make it velvet. Doesn't always work, but sometimes- like for instance this dump, my home- the more love I put in, the more I received. I learned that even though old houses can be drafty, leaky, the grand scheme of all things, they also can be home and hearth and haven and harbor. And they hold more sadness and goodness than any sponge ever could, but it's best to leave both there in the dwelling, the foundation- for one without the other is meaningless. Is my hour up yet?

You need much more extensive talk therapy...your home to you is like a person, it is sticks and wood, just a thing I tell you. You must get this through your mind...

Sure, I suppose that kind of therapy would help me, if I could just forget and treat it like lumber and stone. Sir, I'd rather be tormented for the rest of my life with the heaviest happiest heartfelt memories than to treat a home like an object, it has been my friend through thick and thin. Good day to you...

And then poof! I woke up. I hope I dream of Joseph Campbell tonight, or maybe even Maslow..."Follow your bliss" and "forth into growth, backward into safety" and that kind of thing.

Take care...

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Try A Little Tenderness

I received the most amazing phone call yesterday, one that was unexpected and deeply appreciated.

In this real estate stuff, I'm constantly on my toes, manicuring this and that...such a silly waste of time on a country place. Weeds grow, birds poop and Garter Snakes like to hang out in the tree line...try to keep all that at bay while city folks who yearn for country living come and see just what a little secluded farm has to offer. I can tell you most don't think about the wildness of such a place, it's a bit too much information at first. Seems folks do enjoy the birds though and the way the wind makes music with the high flying leaves of the Silver Maples. I love to hear such exclamations-

"Is that the wind? It sounds so peaceful here! Does it always sound like that?!"

(Why yes, it does! And when the wind comes out of the East- it sounds like tryouts for the Junior High band as every body wants to play the tuba and trombones....)
Now there's a symphony for sure, when good Old Mother Nature has your full attention as she strikes her cymbals with thunder blasts and lightening crashes. (This is why I've hired someone to show the house and grounds, I'm a bit too honest, some may say "smart ass-ish" to be of any good use to myself when it comes to For Sale By Owner...)

As I was saying, the phone call. After another sweeping of the shed and a boxing up of auction stuff and feeling a bit depressed on top of overwhelmed although appreciating this as of late beautiful weather we're having cell phone, ever at the ready these days- began to ring and vibrate.
(or rather played "Try A Little Tenderness" by Otis Redding, love that song...)
I did not recognize the number or area code, so naturally- I answered.

Mandi called. Mandi who?! Mandi, a fellow Marine- a friend of Beau's from back in North Carolina- a good friend, one who to this day remembers my son with love and gratitude and had been thinking about him and us and had wanted to make this phone call for so long. She didn't know how we'd feel about it, didn't want to upset us. She named her baby boy, her one year old son after her best buddy from her Marine days- Beau. The feeling on my end? I cannot describe it. I only know a pure happy feeling, a joy that has no name- a pride that is to be worn right here on my heart, like a badge of honor. Invisible though it may be, but I wonder- aren't the best and most wonderful unexpected joys, invisible after all? Certainly invisible to the eyes of most, but I suspect everyone I meet today will notice a lightness about me, a beautiful way to be- all because a young woman who I have never met in person took the time, in kindness and courage- to share a most wonderful, remarkable blessing. She named her child Beau.

Semper Fi...

Peace to all, love to all, joy to all...Beauty of the day. Amen.